A Night That Ends in Fire
by Eponinedy
Summary: AU: As Daenerys is about to be killed by Jaime Lannister, Catelyn and Ned take the opportunity to rescue the newborn and bring her back to Winterfell as their own. She grows up alongside the Stark children. "I don't desire a direwolf. I prefer dragons."
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- Contumacy

Daenerys Targaryen sat cross-legged on an empty wooden barrel, the cask tipping slightly as she wiggled on the circular top. She figured she should be inside, learning things ladies should know. Lady Catelyn had probably accepted defeat, knowing Dany's constant protests would not seize. Instead, she looked on as Bran practiced his marksmanship. She sighed as missed, again, and called to the young Stark, "Come on, Bran!"

Bran glanced over at the young Targaryen and grinned. Not only did the younger Starks admire Daenerys for her confidence and contumacy, but simply treated her as another sibling. Jon gazed over at her, then made his way to Bran's side. He clapped his hands on the youngster's shoulders, and told him, "Go on. Father's watching."

"And your mother," Snow stated, peering up at the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Jon and Robb watched as Bran nodded to his parents and turned back to the target. He pulled the bow string back, and shot another arrow. It went clean over the target and Bran's head instantly fell in embarrassment. Daenerys was standing and approaching the youngster as Jon, Robb, and Rickon chuckled.

"You're doing good, Bran," Dany told him, kneeling before the young Stark, holding his young face with her left hand. She patted his shoulder and stood at her full height up against Jon. She conjured up the most intimidating expression that she possessed, and glowered into the eyes of her childhood best friend. She shoved him back, causing him to bump against Robb, which caused the eldest Stark's laughter to intensify. Daenerys spoke in an even, low voice, "Don't tease Bran."

"Which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Dany heard Ned ask, causing Robb's laughing to cease. "Keep practicing, Bran," The small boy smiled up at his father, who said, "Go on."

"Don't think too much, Bran."  
"Relax your bow arm."

Daenerys spotted Arya before the rest. The youngest female Stark, she was a rebellious one, the complete opposite of Sansa. The dragon-born girl felt a deep connection to both of the daughters, both strong in different ways. Arya stood at her full height of nearly five feet, and snuck a bow from where it was leaning against the wooden fence. She shot an arrow clean into the target from behind the three sons of Eddard Stark.

Bran, John, and Robb turned towards the archer, who curtseyed quickly. It didn't take Bran too long to react and go chasing after Arya. Dany was still chuckling at the sibling's antics as she approached the two young men, their hearty laughs filling her ears. She heard someone call for Lord Stark, but instead turned her attention to helping Robb, who was yanking arrows from one of the targets.

"How old are you again, Robb?" Daenerys questioned, figuring the question had some sense in her subconscious mind. He gave her an inquiring look, but answered.

"19, why?" The Stark heir asked.

Ignoring his question, Dany pondered, "So, you were one when your father brought Jon home, and two when I was taken here?"

Robb merely nodded, and Daenerys smirked and stated, "Your incipient years were filled with stubborn wards and bastards."

The eldest Stark let out a zealous laugh, agreeing with her statement without speaking. He rarely laughed.

Daenerys smiled warmly at Rickon as she placed a bunch of arrows into his tiny arms. He ran quickly to Jon, who tucked them into the messy rack. The two locked eyes from across the range, ice meeting fire.

The illegitimate child of Ned Stark and the dragon-blooded daughter of the Mad King simply formed the perfect match.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Runts

Daenerys stood, fidgeting, as the seamstress poked and prodded at her delicate dress. She could barely hear the footsteps that echoed outside, but they were recognizable, to her, as a small group of familiar men. Dany instantly leaped from the small stand, the pins in her dress poking at her sides, and fled the stuff room, ignoring her dressmaker's clamors of protest.

When she spotted Theon, Ned, Ser Rodrick, and the three sons of Eddard, she walked toward them. Jon saw her, and in spite of himself, he cracked a smile at her. It faded as deliberately as it had appeared, and the young Targaryen glanced down to look at what he was carrying.

A direwolf, she observed. She detected there were six, but only five looked alike, gray fur and all. The fur upon the wolf Jon toted was nearly the same color as the hair she had on her head. Theon set the two cubs he had been holding down, and Robb followed, the pups whimpering in the cold. Daenerys jogged over to the parade of now four men, albeit the cringe-worthy pain in her hips from the sharp pins.

"They're pups!" She practically yelled, "And they're cold." The dragon-blooded girl bent down and picked up a grey-coated wolf. She stared into the small animal's eyes briefly, then said, "This shall be Arya's."

Jon laughed at the Targaryen's strange ability to judge character. She pulled another into her gentle arms, and repeated the quirky action, naming it Robb's. She continued this until all of the direwolves were assigned an owner. She stood, wincing as she pulled blood-stained pins from her dress. Theon teased, "Where's your direwolf, milady?"

Daenerys gave him a smug smile, and subconsciously stroked the runt in Jon's arms. She casually stated in her bold voice, "I don't desire a direwolf. I prefer dragons."

Theon and Daenerys had a strange bond. They were constantly at one another's throats, but as the two wards, they bonded. They shared jokes and practiced archery together, but even their brother-sister friendship didn't cease Theon's romantic advances towards her. Dany was always pushing him away, stating he was like a brother, and had great animosity towards his sexual propositions.

Daenerys had picked up Sansa and Arya's pups, and was now approaching the castle, Jon walking alongside her. Violet eyes met brown once again, and Jon nearly shuddered from the unrecognizable feeling he felt in his heart. Dany's stomach capsized like a ship on the Narrow Sea, the same indistinct feeling capturing her as well.

"You've heard?" Dany spoke, releasing the comfortable silence the two held, "The reason I'm being made a new dress?"

"No, but I'm guessing it is not a favorable reason," Jon laughed, causing the Targaryen heir to giggle.

"King Robert rides for Winterfell," Dany spoke gravely, her bold voice now stricken with worry.

"You will be fine, Daenerys," Jon comforted, "You've bent your knee to the King, and pledged your allegiance to House Stark. You're barely Targaryen."

* * *

Daenerys sat, yet again, on a barrel. This one, though, was filled with fine wine, and Daenerys sat in merely a thick robe, despite Lady Catelyn's protests. So there she sat, watching on as Robb gets his lovely beard shaved. She had earlier protested, "Aw! I simply loved that beard!"

She couldn't help but let her eyes wander to Jon's abdomen, the way his deep breath caused the muscular surface to rise and fall. All three men stood shirtless, chatting like usual, but Dany was overwhelmed by the unladylike nature of the position she was in.

"Why's your mother so dead-set on us getting pretty for the King?" Jon questioned, staring as Tom finished shaving Robb.

"It's for the Queen, I bet..." That was when Daenerys tuned them out. Her thoughts of the King and Queen littered her brain, nearly causing her to shake in misery. Although Jon's kind words earlier provided alleviation, she was still plagued with concern. It wasn't only her well-being she feared, but for the stewardship of the house she pledged to.

She only snapped out of her daze when Robb stood up and slapped Jon on the back, saying, "Go on Tommy, shear him good."

"The only girl he's ever liked better than his own hair is Dany," The eldest remarked, causing the small blonde to shove him into a wooden column. Jon reluctantly sat down, and winced as the aggressive man began to cut his dark curls.

* * *

"Where's Arya?" Lady Catelyn questioned, peering around. Sansa shrugged as her mother asked where her sister was. Daenerys's hard stare at the back of the eldest daughter's head caused the small redhead to turn her gaze to the blonde. Daenerys wiggled her eyebrows, her teasing implying that Joffrey Baratheon was in tow with the flock of people from King's Landing.

Daenerys watched on as an exchange between Ned and Arya took place, a helmet being removed and the youngest Stark daughter taking her place between Bran and Sansa. What was even more endearing was the proud half-smile plastered on Jon's lips. Dany stood next to Jon, behind Robb. She couldn't help but shake with apprehension, to Jon's horror.

The feeling of his coarse hand making it's way into her small soft one was an offering of solace to the dragon-born. She accepted it appreciatively as the King descended from his horse. She bowed alongside the rest of Winterfell, the fur on her shoulder seeming considerably heavier than it normally was.

The King fastly approached Ned, and beckoned for the Lord of Winterfell to stand. We rose with him. A brief moment passed, and was broken by Robert himself, "You've got fat."

Daenerys couldn't figure out what happened next, but it ended in the two seasoned men hugging. Robert also greeted Lady Catelyn and rubbed the mop of light hair atop Rickon's small head. His face went blank when he locked eyes with Daenerys.

"Targaryen."  
"Your grace."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry I haven't updated in just about forever. I was really upset when I forgot about this FF, and when I found out that the story has quite a lot of follows. Thank you _so _much!

(Dany and Tyrion interaction in this chapter yippeeeee)

* * *

Chapter 3-

The interaction with the king still had Daenerys squirming in her seat. She knew Ned wouldn't let anything happen to her, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach wouldn't go away. Although nervous, Dany sat in the dining hall, looking down across the table, Robb and Arya seated close by. She was comfortable around them, but every so often, when she would peer up to look at the queen, the blonde women's eyes were already on her, piercing her like daggers. She began to feel more and more queasy each time it happened.

_Maybe it's because she knows I'm the rightful queen, _those were the first set of thoughts that flashed through her mind, then, _No, Dany, the Targaryen rule ended when the Kingslayer killed Aerys, you are no ruler._

There was something uneasy in the atmosphere, something hateful and nasty, and it was nearly driving her mad. Her face and hands were sweaty and hot, and her silvery locks began sticking to her face, making eating her food nearly impossible. She reached her boiling point, standing up abruptly, nodding towards Sansa and Robb, and storming off, arms crossed in front of her chest.

* * *

It was cold outside, and when she neared the doors, she heard voices. A vaguely familiar one, and another she knew well, but a welcome one. It was simply the only voice she wanted to hear, but in all it's glory, there was the other, and that was the one speaking. It said in a slurred yet steady tone, "Let me give you some advice, bastard. Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like _armor._"

This was when Dany stepped from the shadows, locking eyes with Jon, and then continuing to walk towards the voices. The small man she assumed to be Tyrion Lannister was still speaking, but she was rather preoccupied with the fact that Jon was _still _looking at her, even though the dwarf was addressing him directly. He spoke yet again, his tone nearly mocking, and it made Dany's insides churn. It was either with frustration or pity. He had said, "It can never be used to hurt you." This was the biggest lie of them all, Jon's title was constantly plastered on his forehead, yet those around him continued to use it against him.

"Although it is," She finally spoke, her voice angry and steady, "Every day of his life, how do you explain that, little man?"

By then, Tyrion had whipped around and taken in the sight of her beauty, and she was nearly trembling in anger, her dislike of being sized up showing through. She further approached the two men, reaching for Jon's hand as soon as it was within arm's reach. The leather glove was rough and worn, but it was warm and comforting, and she hoped it had the same affect on him. She peered down eerily at the small man in front of her, her expression bearing anger, and spoke again, "So, what are you doing away from the festivities? You _are _quite the drinker, I assume." She nodded towards the bottle in his hand, silently voicing her disapproval with an eye roll.

He smirked, his small face displaying enough mockery to make Daenerys want to take a sword and hack of his head, but she hid her anger, her face simply bearing a disapproving look. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she could see Jon attempting to hide a smirk, and this made her want to kiss him. Like, really kiss him. But, even with these new found urges, she had a bigger, well, smaller issue to deal with.

Tyrion spoke then, towards her, and said, "I _am _quite the drinker, Targaryen. But I'd rather be quite inebriated _before _I enter a dining hall full of northerners." She preferred not to be called by her last name, but that wasn't the worst he could've called her. She considered his words, nudging Jon as he began to protest the small man's rude words against the North. She began formulating the perfect comeback, her head swirling with ideas, and she was trying to hold back the wicked smile that could've easily been spread across her lips. Unfortunately for her, though, he turned and walked away, a teasing smile strewn across his features.

She was seething, but Jon pulled her away as she began to follow him, and turned her to face him. Once they locked eyes, her anger subsided, like the tide, he always had a way of reigning her back in. He smiled that small smile down at her, and her insides turned to mush. She leaned into him, his steady frame now the only thing keeping her from toppling over.


End file.
